She's Gonna Break
by c.margo
Summary: She needed out. She needed to be far, far away from here. She needed to go home. If only she had one. Lit.
1. Beginning

**A/N:** The song is "She's Gonna Break Soon" by Less Than Jake

* * *

_With so many problems in her life it just comes as no surprise _

_She's gonna break soon _

_Gonna break soon _

_She's gonna break_

_Welcome to her busy dizzy life _

_Of going out and getting high _

_And following all the latest trends _

_While shedding all her oldest friends_

**Chapter 1- . . .Beginning**

She had an epiphany.

It was the umpteenth time in the passed few months that she had been so drunk she couldn't stand without support and could not understand for the life of her the words coming out of her own mouth. She was used to it now and it almost didn't even phase her when she woke up the next day with her face glued to the floor by a puddle of drool and puke. She'd just pop a couple of aspirin, shower and go lay out another stupid seating chart.

Then she would start it all over again.

Her life had become frustratingly, pathetically redundant. At this point what was she supposed to do about that? She had nowhere to go, no other future to strive for. She was just another high class fuck up now. Nothing more. Nothing spectacular. She wasn't a promising young journalist or a hard working Yale student. She wasn't even a devoted Literati anymore. She was just sober enough to know that she couldn't remember the last thing she read that actually had substance to it. It was all five piece orchestras and five star caterers, expensive ballrooms and extensive guest lists.

But that didn't matter. A shot of tequila moved Finn's rendition of 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' to the forefront of her mind again.

"Once upon a time I was falling in love, but now I'm only falling apart. There's nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart."

Sing it sister.

Everything was fine and dandy and wobbling ever so slightly, but then she just had to go out to the main room in the loft that cost more than her mother's house twice over where in the dim lighting was Logan. He was with Stephanie and a handful of other society brats leaning over a glass table diligently and meticulously dividing fine white substance into surprisingly even lines with one of their parents' special issue MasterCard.

When Logan noticed her he smiled his sloppy, wasted smile and waved her over excitedly, "Ace! About time. I saved you a spot," he said patting the spot next to him affectionately.

Rory only hesitated a moment before taking a cautious step forward. And then another.

And in a split second she saw exactly how this would play out:

She could see herself leaning over the table and snorting up whatever that was. Crack? Coke? Merely a crushed up pill? She never could keep them straight, she never had any reason to.

She caught herself completely off guard by thinking about _maybe_ just this once. She knew this was how all good, tragic sob stories started: She was so bright. So driven. And then she wasn't anymore. She said just once. But once turned into twice and so on before coke (crack?) became heroin and heroin became a nice pretty headstone in the most exclusive cemetery her name could get her in the most beautiful coffin her grandparents' money could buy. All of that wasted talent, that horribly wasted young life gone by.

And she saw her funeral attended by everyone in Hartford society. They would all turn the other cheek. She would have had an obscure, terminal disease that maybe if they caught it just a little sooner. . .maybe she'd have a chance.

Her mom wouldn't be there because they were in a fight and the disappointment and the despair. What would become of her?

Luke wouldn't be there. He'd be busy tending to her mother.

Lane probably wouldn't be there. It had been awhile. And her grandmother never did learn her name, preferring to call her "That Asian Friend of Yours".

Paris never did approve.

The town wouldn't be welcome.

Her dad was sporadically MIA.

Jess and Dean. . .who knew where they were now?

The only people that would be there in the end would be her overbearing grandparents, Logan and a handful of people she either didn't know, didn't like or people who secretly hated her because her death had interrupted Sunday afternoon brunch.

Things were never supposed to escalate this quickly. She was nineteen when she got drunk for the first time, for Christ's sake. That was only two years ago (her kindergarten teacher did say that she excelled when presented with a new challenge) and just because she was legally allowed to drink now, didn't mean doing drugs were legal. Not now or ever. In fact, she was pretty sure it was a felony, but that could've been the fear talking.

Then she envisioned prison because--oh, God if she was caught she'd have another felony. Her first would never be expunged from her record and the judge wouldn't be so kind a second time.

A second time!

There was never meant to be a first. She never planned on a first. She never planned on stealing a boat. Or quitting Yale (or Yale, in the first place). Or becoming a society lady. Or not talking to her mom. That was just insane.

Prison had certainly not been part of the plan. She was not cut out for prison. She was weak and fragile and she bruised easily. She had never (willingly) experimented. She couldn't be anyone's prison bitch!

That's when one of the unnamed women snorted a line and Rory bolted out of the room, relying on the hallway walls to keep her steady until she reached the elevator.

She needed out. She needed to be far, far away from here. She needed to go home. If only she had one.

She heard Logan stumble after her and when he reached her, she was in the elevator.

"Ace, where are you going?" He asked, sticking his hand in between the doors before they could shut all the way.

"I--have to go," She slurred.

"Ace--Rory, you're drunk. You can't go, you'll get hurt. Come on, let's go lay down. You'll feel better in the morning." Logan reached for her carefully. Sounding very sober despite his dilated eyes.

She shook her head and stepped easily away from him.

"No, I can't be here. Not with--," She couldn't say it. She wasn't here right now. She was in a tiny room in a twin sized bed with clothes too big for her body and books too big for her young mind.

"Oh, that--forget that. Come on, let's go," He stepped into the elevator and for a second she thought he meant to come with her, but he just needed to be closer to try to usher her out. And she couldn't tell if she was disappointed, angry or a little relieved that he didn't plan on going with her. That he planned on keeping her there.

"I can't, Logan. And I can't do--this--anymore," She said brushing his loose grip off of her arm, "I have to go."

He was shocked into backing up enough for the doors to shut. She wasn't sure why he had that look in his eye until she heard her own voice repeating the words in her head again. She just broke up with him, didn't she? She hadn't intended it, but her words and actions could have been interpreted as so. . . .

When she got to the ground floor she waited in the marble lobby, in a straight back wooden chair with fancy, plush seats, trying not to fall over. She waited and waited. Five minutes, ten, twenty, twenty-five before she realized he wasn't coming down and she could _not_ go back up. She shuddered to think what he was doing at this very moment.

On her way out, the sleepy doorman gave her a kind smile, seeming to know exactly what a bad night she had turned out having. She returned it but it only made her sadder and before the sweet old man could see her hysteric crying she made a quick exit and hurried down the street and around the corner before leaning against the building and dry heaving until she couldn't breathe anymore. She was pretty sure she had just experienced a panic attack. Her face was numb and her eyes were blurred with tears.

Her life was a train wreck. Her mother hated her, her grandmother suffocated her, she broke up with her boyfriend and she just realized that she had nowhere to go but up, but she couldn't remember at all which way the light shown.

And this actually gave a result to the heaving. Luckily, missing her body.

It was dark out and cold and very lonely. The last she knew it was past midnight, but only barely. And that could've been a _long_ time ago.

She looked around trying to find a building she could at least vaguely place. She had no idea where she was; when Logan's driver picked her up from the Manor she was already a bit tipsy and trusted that when the time came Logan would get her home. But, the time had come and Logan was nowhere to be found. She was lost.

This was round two, until she had nothing left in her stomach to throw up.

Wiping her face with a shaking hand Rory started to walk down he street hoping to find some familiar ground.

She had walked a block and nothing came to her. Not to mention her thoughts were fuzzy and her heart was beating out of her ribcage in fear. She couldn't stop looking behind her and jumping every time the wind blew wrong.

Another block and she could feel a second panic attack coming on. Before much could happen, her unstable ankles twisted and caught her heal in a crack bringing her down before she knew what hit her. . .it was concrete, and it hurt.

She threw her broken heal into the street with a frustrated groan and proceeded to breakdown on the sidewalk.

Everything was wrong.

Sitting on the curb, she pulled out her phone and quickly flew through her contacts, and when she found that she had no one to call, she nearly threw her phone into the street (to keep her heal company. . .it was bound to get lonely). She forced herself to breathe and checked her phone again.

For the same reasons that no one would come to her funeral, she could not wake them up at 2:00 AM to come get her sorry ass. She sniffled a bit before finally hitting 'send' and slowly bringing the phone to her ear.

No matter what time it was, no matter how long it had been, her mother had to take pity on her. It rang and it rang, but there was no answer, not until an automated voice clicked on, "I'm sorry the number you have dialed is no longer in service. If you are trying to reach--"

"--Lorelai Gilmore or Paul Anka--" Her mother's hurried voice came one briefly before being cut out again.

"--Please dial 867-5--"

The idea that she hadn't been notified that her mom had changed her number stunned her so much that she couldn't even muster a laugh at the Paul Anka joke. She had to remind herself that she had done the same thing not too long ago. She never appreciated how upset her mom was at not being told about the slight change.

What if she moved out of her childhood home? What if strangers were living in her bedroom and erasing all of the memories made in the house over the years? What if that was the reason the house number they'd had since she could remember suddenly wasn't anyone's anymore?

She could not do this right now. There would be plenty of time to cry her poor heart out when she was safe and in doors.

She continued to scroll up and down, up and down, passed the names of all of the people she had ever known. She contemplated one name in particular. It was the biggest long shot of them all. The probability of his number being the same was slim to none. The probability of him being on the East Coast and willing to come get her was even less. But, he was her only shot. She had to try.

The last time they spoke wasn't pleasant but he swore up and down that he was different. He was responsible and could take care of her. This would be proof--or not.

"Yeah?" The voice answered groggily. So, he was either on the East Coast or an early sleeper, which last she knew he wasn't. "Hello?"

She tried to speak, but found herself paralyzed.

"Listen, Asshole, you woke me up. You better at least say hello," He growled irritably.

"Jess?" She squeaked.

"Yes," He said tentatively.

"Jess, everything is just falling apart. Everything's wrong. I don't know what to do. I don't have anywhere to go," She bawled into the phone, holding her forehead in her palm.

"Rory? Is that you?" He asked. There was shock and disbelief evident in his voice but there was also the feeling like he was about to make fun of her, like she was drunk dialing him or something. Well, she technically kind of was, but it was on purpose.

"I'm serious, Jess," She said, "There's no one else I can call. . .I--everything is just so messed up. There's really. . .no one else."

"What about your mom?" He asked tiredly.

"Like I said, I ruined everything. Like _everything_, everything," She told him desperately, "Please, Jess. I need you."

Sensing the urgency and gravity of the situation Rory had seemingly gotten herself into he sat up, she could hear his blankets shifting.

"Alright," He said. "I'm up. I'm coming. Where are you?"

"Hartford," She said lamely, looking back up at her surroundings. Still nothing.

"That homing chip I had implanted in your skin has been on the fritz lately. You got a street name? An address?"

"I don't have one," She said biting her lip to stifle a sob, "I don't know where I am."

Jess sighed. She really was in trouble. What had she done that she couldn't call her mom and ended up on an apparently nameless streets, alone and--was she slightly drunk or was that just his ears playing tricks on him?

He pulled out his old backpack and shoved some shirts and underwear and his wallet inside before grabbing his shoes and keys and shutting his apartment door behind him. With his phone trapped between his shoulder and cheek he slipped on his sneakers as he walked down the hall, he said, "Look up. No signs?"

Obeying, she searched for one but there were none in sight. Not that she had even thought to check. Maybe she was more drunk than she originally thought.

"No."

"Start walking. Find one."

It was on the next block that she saw the sign for an intersection, "Constitution and Main."

"Good that's a start," He said and she could hear the road flying by on his side, "Anything open down there?"

She scanned the area and a flashing neon sign told her that the Hartford Midnight Bowlean would welcome her.

"Yes," She said. "Bowling Alley."

"Okay. Go inside and wait. I'll be about forty-five minutes."

"Thank you, Jess," She said hobbling over to the entrance.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asked brushing off her thanks.

"I think so," She hesitated before asking, "Hey, Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think I'm an asshole?"

She could hear his light chuckle, "Not even close."

"You might change your mind," She said quietly and Jess pretended not to hear.

"I'll see you soon. Be careful."

And then he was gone. And so was she.

* * *


	2. Middle

_She's been thinkin' wishin' she could hide_

_From the girls with the comments passing by_

_It's the boys in bars on Friday night_

_That replace the emptiness inside_

_She'll be spending her whole weekend_

_Faking laughs and faking smiles with her fake friends_

**Chapter 2- Middle**

She was wrapped in darkness. It was heavy and fuzzy and warm like a favorite childhood blanket that she just wanted to stay snuggled in all day. But, there was a voice and she was being shaken. Whatever she was laying on was cold and hard and it was sloping and peaking at uncomfortably sharp angles. Her head was pounding and every minute or so, it sounded like something was shattering all around her.

"Rory?" The voice asked softly, "Rory, you have to wake up now."

She groaned and fought to open her eyes just a little. Her pupils had a cloudy film covering them, but she had a good guess as to who was waking her.

"'S time?" She mumbled, sloppily wiping at her eyes.

"Almost four and you owe me," He said. "You okay to get up?"

"'O," She wined pitifully. Her body was made of some new fangled jell-o that wobbled even though it was as heavy as stone.

Jess sighed but reached out to help her sit upright. However strange it was to see her, it was even more bazaar to touch her, especially while she was this way. He never in his life imagined her passed out on a bowling alley's bench. He never imagined her legitimately passed out. Not ever. But, here she was, even more fucked up than she sounded.

Her make-up was smeared ever so slightly. Her hair was frizzy and sticking up on one side. Her clothes were all designer, but they were crooked and wrinkled. It would have been comical if it wasn't so serious of a situation. Not to mention how awkward it was bound to be as soon as she completely regained consciousness.

"Better?"

"No," She said, "Head hurts."

"Well, you'll have that. Up."

"Sleep," She insisted, trying to lay down again, but Jess grabbed her arm and pulled her to sit again.

"Rory, come on. Stand up."

She held out her arms like a clingy child, causing Jess to roll his eyes. He took her by the forearms and pulled her to a standing position, steadying her when her legs tried to give out.

"You have to work with me here, Ror," He said, "You're not exactly feather light."

"Tryin'."

When Jess thought she was stable enough to let go, he slowly took a step back, and he was relieved to see that she was fine. Until she attempted to take a step forward and one of her legs nearly sank beneath her.

"Stupid shoe," She pouted, kicking off both of her shoes, giving the broken one a slightly more forceful kick.

"Don't insult your shoes. Now pick them up and come on," Jess chided her like she was he was her parent or her babysitter instead of her rescuer. She was surely acting the part.

"No, leave 'em there. They're mean." For good measure, she attempted to kick the shoe again, put missed widely, throwing herself off balance in the process. Jess caught her, but only barely this time. She was getting heavier as sleep was edging its way back into her.

He threw her arm around his shoulders, supporting her by the waist, hoping it would be enough to at least make it to the car.

Rory allowed herself to be guided, barefoot with legs made of lead, down the lanes which were almost all dark now, except for the occasional group of slightly inebriated, half passed out college students. On the way past the shoe rental, the fat, bald man at the desk gave them an eye that easily reflected the inappropriate thoughts running through his head. Somehow his stare was also filled with a sort of condescending disgust aimed in Jess (the sober one). Jess could imagine what plans he had just ruined, wishing he could erase that thought completely.

"'Bout time someone came to get her. I was just about to call the cops." He barked.

"Sure you were," Jess said doubtfully, sending him a glare as Rory's heavy head lolled onto his shoulder. She was beyond oblivious.

After getting her settled in his dumpy car, Jess just sat in the driver's seat. All the while he was driving, he had been making plans in his head. Take her home to Lorelai. Take her to Luke. Take her to a hotel and drop her. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, he just knew that she needed to go somewhere safe and he desperately needed to sleep.

She mentioned that she had no one else to call. She said Lorelai wasn't an option. Besides raising his curiosity, it also worried him more than he'd like to admit. Rory without Lorelai was like a fish without water. Thelma without Louise. Betty without Wilma. He couldn't take her back to Stars Hollow. If things were as bad as she made them seem, she'd never forgive him for just throwing her back.

"Why aren't we moving?" Rory asked.

She was leaning forward with her cheek pressed flat against the window and her hair covering most of her face. Despite that, he could tell that her eyes were closed, trying to sleep again. Her limbs were thrown everywhere, like a Raggedy Ann doll. He could see her dirty feet and smell the puke from here.

There was no doubt that she had fallen from grace. He wondered who Stars Hollow got to where the tiara these days.

Sighing, he started the car and drove off to find the nearest, cheapest hotel.

- -- -

There was a feeling, something akin to déjà vu in the back of Rory's mind. She knew that she was sleeping and she knew that her body wanted to wake up, but her head was dead set against it. She knew something strange had happened the night before, and it wasn't the normal 'passed out under a coffee table' kind of strange. She knew that she had felt the warm fuzziness of an alcohol blanket laying across her subconscious already tonight and wondered if the haze in between that one and this one was real or not.

Either way, she was propelled from her sleep by her stomach, trying to heave up something that was no longer there. Throwing the covers off of her, she hurried to where her instincts told her there was a bathroom, tossing the closed door open without a second thought.

The heaving wouldn't stop until she felt the stinging of bile and stomach acid making it's way up her throat and into the toilet. Relieved that it stopped, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and rested her head against the bacteria infested seat without a care in the world. She didn't even mind that a few locks of hair had come into the crossfire of her puking and were now floating in the dirty water.

While busy bowing to the Porcelain God she didn't have time to register the steam coming from the running shower. Opening her eyes, she started at the sight of Jess leaning his top half out of the shower to watch her, with a slightly sickened look on his face.

"You're going to need this next," He said before retreating behind the curtain.

"I--sorry," She said recapturing her wits. She scrambled from the room and sat herself primly at the small desk against the wall.

She only vaguely remembered calling him last night. Obviously, he had come through for her and she was grateful to him for it, but she was insane to do it. Slumping, with her head resting in her crossed arms, she groaned. Today sucked.

She had a throbbing headache and no Aspirin. A naked ex-boyfriend in the bathroom of their motel. A recently ex-boyfriend, probably still passed out from the night before that she'd most definitely have to answer to at some point. She was smelly, sweaty, sticky, and all around gross. To top it off, she was starving and embarrassed.

A plus, she still had her clothes on. And that was probably only because she passed out before making it to the room. But, she counted it as a point for her because it was all about the simple wins these days. She had a feeling that, that was all she was going to get.

She looked up at the sound of Jess opening the door, fully clothed in a dark T-shirt and old jeans. His hair was still dripping as he tried to shake the water out with his hands.

"How are you feeling?" He asked politely.

"I've been better," She said and after a pause added, "Jess, I'm sorry--"

"You hungry?" He asked, cutting her off without a second thought.

"Uh, yeah," She said tentatively.

"Go take a shower," Jess said, "I'll take you out to breakfast and you can tell me what the hell's going on."

"I don't have any clean clothes," He just looked at her, "Or any shoes. At all."

He looked down at her feet, "I have a couple shirts in my bag, feel free."

"Okay," She said slowly, confused.

"What size shoes do you wear?"

She told him. He ordered her to shower and then left her alone in the room. Without anything to do other than stewing in the sludge that were her personal problems, Rory did as Jess told her. She took extra care in scrubbing the soles of her feet and took advantage of the complementary toothbrush and toothpaste. She just had to close her eyes and pretend that they hadn't been there since the beginning of the millennium. It was worth it.

The shower did wonders for her head and her mood. She carefully redressed in her own jeans and Jess' short sleeved black button-down. She found a rubber band in the desk drawer and used it to tie her wet hair up in a messy bun, just as Jess was coming back in.

"You found something," He said, taking in a nice, healthy look at her.

She looked away, feeling less than comfortable under his gaze, "I did."

"Here, hopefully these'll fit okay," Jess handed her a bag with a logo she recognized from a well known gas station chain.

She pulled out a pair of flimsy black flip flops, slipping them on appreciatively, "Thanks, Jess."

"No problem. You ready?" He asked.

- -- -

Jess parked in the lot of an exceptionally crowded Denny's. They walked to the door and were seated at a small table by the window, weighed down by tense silence.

The drive over had been one of the longest Rory could remember. She wasn't sure what to say. She could try apologizing, but Jess had already prevented her from doing it before. She didn't really want to open up their past, because that's where it all was supposed to stay: in the past.

Jess wasn't doing so hot, either. Curiosity was eating him from the inside out.

Their hostess walked away after pouring them each a cup of coffee and Jess started ripping up the nearest napkin.

Rory fiddled with her menu, opening and closing it on the table, painfully aware that she didn't have any money.

He cleared his throat, "I should apologize about everything that happened before."

"Don't," Rory said, "Lately, I've messed up way worse than you ever did. I was hurt at the time, but. . .it's more than water under the bridge. And after last night, forget it."

"Okay," Jess excepted, fiddling with his coffee mug. It was kind of liberating. Both of them recognizing that once upon a time he had hurt her and she had hurt him and choosing to accept and move on from it. Because even before once upon a time, they were friends, and that had to mean a little something beyond the mistakes made by stupid kids. It was almost like they had actually grown up.

At least, they were playing on awkward but even playing ground now.

"I feel so stupid," She said laughing at herself and resting her head in her hand, "I can't believe I called you."

"It's okay. Better me taking care of you than the Bowling Alley guy, I guess."

"What Bowling Alley guy?" Rory asked suspiciously.

Jess shook his head, "Let's just say, he would've gladly taken you home if I didn't show."

Fully covering her face with her hands she groaned, eliciting a chuckle out of Jess, but he quickly sobered, choosing to cut to the chase.

"Rory? Why did you call me, out of all people?"

Caught off guard she paused looking down at her lap, where she was nervously folding her hands, "You never wanted me to be anybody else," She said quietly, almost ashamed, "You never judged me. Not once. I guess, I just wanted to not feel so. . . I don't know, less messed up."

Jess nodded, even though he didn't really understand what she was trying to say.

"What happened?"

"Last night?""Sure, you can start there if you want."

"Well," She said nervously smoothing her hair back, "I have this--_had_ this boyfriend and we were at a party at his friend's loft."

Jess raised his eyebrow, "You were at a party in a _loft_?"

"They're, um, they have a lot of money. We were there and we were all having fun, but then Logan--"

"That's your boyfriend?" He was doing well with the fact that he was uncomfortable with the word as it pertained to Rory. He'd be lying if he said he didn't think about her sometimes and how things could've been different for them. It'd be an even bigger lie if he said that she didn't look gorgeous right now.

But, what they had was in the past and they both had to come to terms with how to behave with each other again, as strictly friends.

"Was. They brought out this--stuff. I don't really remember, but I know I didn't want to be there anymore, so I accidentally broke up with him and I left and then I realized that I had no clue where I was and no one to call and my mom's number is different. . . I'm so out of touch with everyone who ever meant anything to me. I don't even feel like myself most of the time. I wish I could just go back. . . ." Her voice faded as she tried not to have another panic attack.

Once again, Jess nodded even though he didn't fully understand. He let her compose herself in peace until he had to ask, "Rory, it's Wednesday. Don't you have class or something?"

"I would," She said picking at the hem of Jess' shirt, "if I were in school."

And that's when Jess thought for sure the world had ended. The expression on her face was anything but proud.

"Your not going to school? Why?" He nearly yelled.

Sighing, Rory set her elbows on the table, determined not to let it get to her, "It's a long story."

Jess sat back crossing his arms obstinately, stretching out, "I have time."

"Jess, really. . ."

"In fact, I have nothing but time," He said a little more firmly.

Rory's shoulders slumped. The reason that she had called Jess in the first place was because he was always understanding. He never said anything he didn't mean, and that's what she needed. She just wanted to talk to someone who got her, who would talk to her freely without fear of pushing her away or hurting her feelings.

"I was working for Logan's father. He owns all these newspapers and he offered me an internship. . . ," She continued on to tell him in excruciating detail about the boat, and the trial, the fight with her Mom, the community service, her grandparents. She told him everything despite her initial reluctance to talk about it.

By the time she got to the end of her story, Jess was sure he had had at least a handful of small heart attacks. Rory was. . .not nearly as put together as he once thought she was. She wasn't growing up, she was growing down. But, at least she seemed to realize it now, shocked out of that insane world by whatever had happened at her party. And that made him feel better. She was still Rory somewhere underneath it all.

They'd ordered and been served but he was listening too intently to try to focus on food.

"What are you going to do now?" He asked after a short silence.

"I don't know. I mean, I know what I _want _to do, but whether or not I'll actually be able to is a whole different thing."

"You're Rory. If you want this--whatever this is--I'm sure you'll find a way."

"I'm not so sure anymore," Rory admitted, "Like I said, things aren't the same."

"No, but you are still Rory. You're the smartest, most hardworking person I've ever met."

She gave him a half smile for his efforts, not so sure that he was right. To say the last few months of society solitude had been bad for Rory's self-esteem would have been an understatement. She was princess of the DAR, but she wasn't convinced that she knew how to do anything else anymore. She was afraid she had erased all the important stuff to make room for all of the trivial stuff.

If there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that she needed to leave the pool house and call her mom.

They took a moment to pick at their food and gain their footing. It had been a while since they had engaged in easy conversation and with all the heavy stuff out of the way, that was the only thing left.

"So, what have you been doing, Jess?"

"A little bit of this. A little bit of that."

"Hm, impressive."

"I've been working.""Where?"

"There's this publishing house in Philadelphia. No big deal."

"Philadelphia?" Rory asked incredulously.

"You'd be surprised. Philly's gotten cool again."

"Well, of course. Now that you're there," She took the opportunity to throw him a teasing smile, "So, publishing house?"

"It's just me and a couple of other guys stuck in a tiny room reading self-proclaimed authors crappy manuscripts. Occasionally we get a really good one. It's good, though. I like it. Leaves a lot of time to write."

"Write? Jess, you're writing?" Rory nearly squealed, pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah, it's really nothing." He said ducking his head, embarrassed.

"No, I don't believe that. You have such a great mind, Jess. I knew you could do something like this. Are you going to publish it?" She asked full of pride.

"Eh," He said, waving it off, "A couple hundred. No biggie."

Rory's jaw literally dropped, "That's. . .that's fantastic. Where are they going to be? What's it called? How long is it? What's it about? Are you writing more? Oh, I'm so excited."

Jess laughed, "It's just a short novel. It's called _The Subsect_. I could tell you what it's about, but then I'd have to kill you. And it's going to be author distributed, so I have to start traveling around soon, trying to con some bookstores into buying it."

"I'm going to buy one--no, ten--the second I can."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. It's really not that great. I already want to get rid of it all and just start again before anybody has to suffer through it."

"Stop, now. I am not listening to this anymore. I'm sure it's great and you can't change my mind."

"Just you wait."

"I will, and you'll see how wrong you are."

It was in the first exchange of direct eye contact that Rory realized that maybe she missed Jess for other reasons than his honesty. Maybe she missed the light conversation and all of those original thoughts floating around in his brain. Maybe she missed him.

- --- -

"You remember where it is?" Rory asked.

"Of course," Jess said, "That was one of the worst nights of our entire relationship. How could I forget the scene of the crime?"

"Now that's an exaggeration if I ever heard one." She laughed.

"Were you there?"

"It was bad, but not _that_ bad."

They were in Jess' car, driving around the Harford's most elite neighborhood, en route to the Gilmore Manor.

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait?" He asked turning onto their street.

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea. Especially, if they're home. I just want to get in, get some essentials and get out."

"If you're sure." He pulled up outside the house, not driving up the driveway just in case. But, Rory stayed put.

"Are you going back to Philadelphia?"

"That was the plan." He said, running a hand through his hair, settling back in his seat, waiting for her to get where she was trying to go.

"Oh, well, thanks again, Jess. I don't know what I would've done if you didn't come." She said, reaching for the door handle.

"Sure."

He watched her open the door and swing one of her legs out, preparing to stand, before plopping back down and facing him.

"Could you maybe not?" She asked quickly.

"Not what?" He asked honestly confused.

"Not go back just yet. Maybe, stick around just in case. If things don't go right I might need a friendly face."

"What do you propose I do? Drive around all day?"

"Maybe you could go to Stars Hollow?" She asked innocently.

Jess gave her a look coupled with a sigh that told her exactly what he thought of that idea. But he reluctantly admitted, "I haven't seen Luke in awhile."

Through a smile Rory thanked him.

"Yeah, yeah. Now you owe me big. Like if I ever need a kidney. . ." He said.

"It's all yours."

"Call if you need anything."

She gave him a quick hug before getting out of the car and watching him leave.

When Rory walked up her grandparents' driveway she was relieved to find that neither of them were there, and hopefully they hadn't realized that she'd been gone all night without calling them. Sometimes, she wondered if she was stuck in some sort of Twilight Zone where her grandparents had tricked themselves into thinking that she was their second shot at raising a sixteen year old Lorelai Victoria. Never mind twenty one year old Lorelai Leigh.

Her relief was short-lived, however, when she saw that on the steps to her pool house was a nice, neat and tidy Logan. It had always amazed her that even when he was drunk, there was never a wrinkle in his clothing, never a hair out of place. He slurred and made and ass out of himself, but he always looked pristine doing it.

"What are you doing here, Logan?" Rory asked, nervously reaching up to touch her messy bun realizing that only half of the clothes she wore were hers, and how it must look to him.

He eyed her the way she expected him to but he didn't comment on it.

"We said some things last night, I think we should talk about them," He said standing up.

"'We' didn't. I did." Rory said, annoyance flaring briefly, trying to maneuver herself around him, but he was relentlessly blocking her path.

"Same thing," He said, catching her arm gently, stilling her so he could have his conversation.

She looked down, "What do you want? We. . .broke up."

"No, you broke up. Out of nowhere might I add. We were having fun--," He said, voice raising slightly, put out by remembering the blip in his otherwise great night.

"You were having fun. Like always." She said firmly but without heat.

"I didn't hear you complaining," Logan said as if he was trying to catch her in a lie.

"Because I never have before. I just went with it, and now I'm done. So, please move."

"So you meant it? You actually want to breakup?"

"Yes," She said after swallowing her doubt.

"You were drunk at the time. You're probably hung over now, I know I am. Let's just do this another time when we're both thinking clearly, okay?"

"No, Logan, I didn't mean to at the time but I don't regret it. I think it's for the best."

"Best for who?" He said getting agitated. She wasn't giving in like he was used to her doing anymore. She felt empowered by it.

"Best for me."

"What about me?"

"I have too much to fix in my own life without worrying about you all the time, Logan."

"What about us?"

"There can't be one of those anymore."

"Rory, don't do this--"

"Logan, please, don't make this any harder than it has to be. Please." She took a long look at him and then walked past him into the house, reaching out to touch his arm comfortingly as she went. But, she didn't glance back. And he didn't try stop her, just watched her go.

It was hard. She really did care about him, and on some level she probably did love him. But, it was too much at the moment. She couldn't very well expect herself to improve if she was always tempted to just wait a little bit longer, hang out for another beer, stay in bed this one time instead of going to class. No, it was better to cut all ties with the Rory she wasn't too fond of and all who enabled her, especially Logan.

She was quick in gathering most her clothes and a few books she was determined to read. She called it Step One. Steeling herself, she loaded her car and set out down the highway, south towards Stars Hollow.

Reconciling with Mommy: Step Two.


End file.
